It might be raining today, I really can’t tell, it’s one of those days where everything seems like an old-fashioned photo. Which is fine because today maybe my thoughts are old-fashioned.
The thing about life is it offers few neat, perfect resolutions. I think, these days, we are wrapped up in story arcs and characters who get redeemed and characters who get deserved retribution. We love the idea that bad comes for the bad, eventually.
That goodness is rewarded.
And those are all ideals I want to be true. Wholeheartedly.
But.
The world just doesn’t work that way, not overall, it seems. Life is a half-written novel, unedited, speckled with irrelevant chapters, full of blind alleys that never get tied back to the main plot. It appears steeped with people who never get what they deserve, good or bad, and people who always seem to get what they don’t deserve, good and bad.
The universe is vast and empty in a lot of places and here we are, trying to make our days make sense in the order in which they come.
Maybe some day we will. Maybe, inevitably, we will not.
Because maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction.
We all will, at some point, be an amalgamation of unanswered questions so faint we no longer can recall them, of situations dangling into nothing as they never have a final scene.
And maybe in that chaos and mess, that’s where we find the beauty of our existence. Maybe in that chaos and mess–not in the tidy parts, in the bits that come together like a puzzle, but the chaos and mess–maybe that is where our real selves are, ready to be, no matter how mismatched the parts.
Maybe we are not in spite of those things, but because of them.
And with that, I wish you a lovely Friday and an exceptional weekend.